


If You’re Too Shy (Let Me Know)

by HunterByDayWhovianByNight



Series: He's a Silver Lining, Lone Ranger Riding [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Confessions, Flirty Din Djarin, M/M, Sexual Tension, The Mandalorian (TV) Season 2, The Mandalorian (TV) Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27290929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HunterByDayWhovianByNight/pseuds/HunterByDayWhovianByNight
Summary: "But damn if there isn’t anything sexierthan a slender boy with a handgun,a fast car..." ―Richard SikenDin knows that Cobb has something else to say to him before they part ways.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth
Series: He's a Silver Lining, Lone Ranger Riding [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009809
Comments: 60
Kudos: 864





	If You’re Too Shy (Let Me Know)

**Author's Note:**

> HEYYYYYYYY! This is completely unedited, but I am DYING to post this because Cobb and Din HAD SO MUCH CHEMISTRY and I was shocked that there was nothing posted with them— or even a fic with Cobb— on AO3 yet this afternoon! Please enjoy the awkward flirty trash. Title is from “If You’re Too Shy (Let Me Know)” by The 1975.
> 
> ~Hunter

“I hope our paths cross again.”

“Me too.”

Cobb Vanth, in all his wild space swagger, actually looks like he’s hesitating when he says it. Like there’s something else he wanted to say instead, or like he’s too nervous to say what else he wants to say. His fingers— and yeah, Din wouldn’t have lied if you asked him how nice Cobb’s hands and fingers looked curled around the handles of his speeder or wrapped around a blaster, he could appreciate the way people held weapons— fidgeted on his belt, trying to give them something to do. Din knew how to read people pretty well, it came from years of sizing up potential enemies or allies, and he can plainly see on Cobb’s face that the other man was torn between staying and saying what was _really_ on his mind, or walking away and leaving it all unsaid until they met again, if they met again at all. 

(And Din _really_ tries to ignore the nagging thought of what Cobb’s ass will look like when he walks away from him, with his belt slung low on his hips and his pants snug in just the right way over his ass. He really tries.)

“There’s something else you want to say.” Din straightens his back up a little more, crosses his arms in front of him. Cobb actually bites his lip at that. _Got you, Marshal,_ Din thinks. “I can tell.”

“I—” Cobb nervously smiles and chuckles to himself, one of his grey strands of hair falling into his eyes. He pushes it out of his face, clearly flustered by Din’s forwardness, and returns to that cocky, unaffected pose he had before with his shoulders back and his hands firmly on his hips. “I only wanted to say that I thought you were a good man, good fighter. It’s a good thing to be that out here. It was nice to, well, _I_ enjoyed working with you.”

Din is dead silent as he watches Cobb stammer and shift his weight from foot to foot. He keeps licking his lips, flexing his fingers on the belt loops of his pants or the belt itself, breathing deeply. And Din feels the same way Cobb does right now. His heart is threatening to push through his beskar, his skin feels a little hot under all the layers— and not just from the sun. He’s just better at hiding it than Cobb is. 

Cobb waits for a response that never comes, and after a few seconds, he huffs and rolls his eyes. He steps closer to Din’s speeder and checks for unsuspecting ears around them. His eyes fall on the child, who’s presently poking the slab of meat the Tuskens gave him with his little claw. Cobb shakes his head in disbelief, places one hand on the speeder’s seat and the other on the handle, and leans in. He drops his volume and in a rough whisper asks, “Did you _really_ want me to say in front of everyone that I’ve been thinking about the ways you could take me apart since I saw you walk into that cantina?” 

Din smiles beneath his helmet as he feels that familiar rush of warmth travel through his chest and fill him up. _That’s what I like to hear,_ Din considers proudly. He puts his fingers below Cobb’s chin and tilts it up just slightly, keeping Cobb’s eyes focused on his T-visor. He can practically feel Cobb’s sharp little intake of breath when he touches his face, runs a thumb over his stubble. In his peripheral vision, Din notices that Cobb is gripping the seat and the handle even tighter than before. 

“Well, if you had told me before now, then we wouldn’t have had to wait until next time, Marshal,” Din says with a measured, collected voice. He pulls his hand away from Cobb’s chin and Cobb takes a step back in utter shock. Din can’t stop the pleased smile that's spreading across his face; he’s almost glad that he’s got the helmet, if only to keep Cobb from seeing how goofy the smile on his face is. He glances over to check that the child is still strapped in ( he is) and then swings his leg over the seat of the speeder. “Gimme a kiss before I go?” 

Cobb blushes. Without a second thought, he leans down and gives Din a peck on the cheek of his mask. “You better fulfill that ‘next time,’ when we cross paths again, Mandalorian. I’ll be expecting it.”

Without another word, Din gives Cobb a little salute, powers up the speeder, and drives off into the Tatooine desert. And as the binary sunset fills the sky, Din thinks to himself that a trip to Tatooine again wouldn’t be too awful. 

**Author's Note:**

> me, in ya brain: kudos/comment on this fic  
> you: but why  
> me, in ya brain: you gotta
> 
> ~Hunter


End file.
